#anyangst2k19

[akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week]

Akatsuki no Yona Angst Week

A reminder that Akatsuki no Yona angst week starts tomorrow, that is 21st July 2019! The prompts were listed and rules were also mentioned. When posting we ask that you tag your posts accordingly with #anyangst2k19. Since sometimes things get wiped out of the tag, be sure to tag this blog in your post as well. 

Let’s enjoy this week and bring tissues with you!

[maddyswriting]

Third day: Farewell

@akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

Zeno shifted in his bed, the thin blanket falling on the floor. He slowly opened his blue eyes and the shadow of a tree welcomed his vision. Silence. The dragon warrior sighed as he felt his chest clutching.

They are alive. Zeno smiled, glad that he had woken up. I can feel them. Abi must be sleeping. Guen is probably with his family. Shuten is moving. They are alive.

One farewell was enough for him. However, during his sleep, his mind had created the illusion of a second farewell. A permanent farewell. Zeno gulped, lifting his body in a sitting position. Tears fell on his cheeks but he wiped them away quickly.

What if they realize I am crying and call me a weakling? He let out a soft chuckle even though his heart was breaking.

Zeno closed his eyes and sighed the words in a whisper.

“They are alive.”

One day, he is going to say farewell again. One day, he will wake up to the emptiness left behind them. One day, he will scream their names at the moon.

“Guen, Abi, Shuten, wait for me. I’ll…I’ll come visit you.” But no matter how many times he said it, he was aware of his lie. How could he face his brothers when he was always the same? Zeno’s expression darkened as he bit his trembling lower lip. Blood trailed down his clothes but the yellow dragon did not care.

Zeno could not accept a second farewell because if he did he had to face the fact that he was an immortal monster…

[maddyisenough]

Akatsuki no Yona Angst Week 2019

First day: Loss

Basically Kyo Ga and Tae Jun lose everything and become poor.

@akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

[carrotcouple]

@akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

Day 1: Loss (AO3)

Warnings: Canon typical violence

The first thing that occurred to Abi was darkness. A strange feeling. He hadn’t known true darkness since he had first drank the blood of the Seiryuu. The second thing that occurred to him was the feeling of some kind of heavy numbness, not quite unlike his backlash paralysis. Convinced that this was a post battle thing and that someone (probably Shuten) had draped several thick and heavy blankets over him and thus keeping him in the dark, Abi lay there, waiting patiently for the tingle of feeling in his limbs to come back. He strained his ears to listen for someone but was met with nothing but silence and what sounded like rain outside of his window.

The door opened and Abi heard footsteps. The footsteps weren’t heavy enough to be Guen’s and they were too consistent to be the flighty and jumpy steps of Shuten. Zeno? A doctor? The queen? Prince Yakshi?

“Seiryuu, how are you feeling?” 

That was Zeno’s voice.

How did Zeno think Abi was supposed to answer from beneath all those stupid blankets?

Wait.

Why was Abi able to hear Zeno at all if he was underneath a pile of blankets? How was Abi even breathing so easily?

“Ouryuu? What’s going on?” Abi asked. He was confused. Something was horribly wrong and it was starting to terrify him.

“You’ve been put under a lot of medicine to erase pain so you might be feeling numb.” Zeno explained. Abi felt the mattress dip ever so slightly underneath him and Abi guessed Zeno had sat down. 

But that still didn’t explain why he couldn’t see.

“Ouryuu, I need you to carefully explain the situation to me,” Abi said slowly.

“How much do you remember?” Zeno asked.

“How much do I-” Abi cut himself off, running through his memories. The dragon blood, meeting Hiryuu and his fellow dragon warrior brothers, battles, blood, paralysis, laughter, teasing, fights, Hiryuu’s smile, Hiryuu’s death. Abi sucked in a sharp shuddering breath, the pain of Hiryuu’s death washing over him anew. 

They had cried. The queen had cried. Prince Yakshi and his sister had cried.

“Our King...is gone…” Abi rasped.

“Yes…” Zeno’s voice was soft and gentle. Patient and understanding in a way that Abi really wouldn’t have expected from their youngest. But Zeno had mourned Hiryuu’s death as well. So he knew. He understood. “What else?”

“W-what else?” Abi stammered. Dreary days in the palace. Nothing had seemed right. Although the sky had been bright and the land was beautiful, everything had looked grey to Abi. Skirmishes that they had to settle despite their mourning. Stupid humans being selfish, like barbarians they craved nothing but war. And then Abi had fallen on blood stained soil and a hand had reached for him.

A hand that wanted to harm him.

Abi’s breath quickened and he broke out into a cold sweat, terror coursing through his veins. 

“O-our-ouryuu…” Abi rasped, his heart pounding against his ribcage. 

“I’m here,” 

A hand wrapped around Abi’s. Warm and gentle fingers.

“M-my ey-eyes-” Abi gasped, trying to suck in air desperately.

Silence.

“Ouryuu!” Abi cried.

“They’re gone. I’m sorry.”

Abi stopped breathing. He wanted to raise his hands to his throat and claw it open to let air in, but he couldn’t move a finger. His head reeled and he wanted to cry, but his eyes only burned. Burned in a way he had never felt before. 

Because they were gone.

They were gone. Gone, gone, gone.

His eyes, the eyes of the Seiryuu, his bond with the dragons, his bond with his King.

Gone.

He vaguely was aware of someone shouting something and being pulled up and into someone’s arms, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see.

My King, my King, my King. I am no longer one that would stay by your side.

I am no one.

Abi lost consciousness, and fell into a darkness that would never leave him. 

My King.

------o------

They had taken a knife. A slim and cruel knife. Pressed fingers under his eyelids and raised that shiny, ice cold metal into his sight. Be careful, they had said. They couldn’t damage his valuable eyes with that knife. Carefully, slowly, painfully, cut out his eyes. He’s paralysed, they had said, he can’t move. Cutting his eyes out is easier this way, but still. Be careful. They carved out the flesh around his eyes so as to not even for a moment bring that knife near his precious and priceless eyes.

Guen and Shuten had killed them. Brutally, viciously and full of unforgivable rage. They brought back his eyes. But what could Abi do with them? There was no way to bring them back. Abi couldn’t even see them. Zeno had cried, offered to see if his blood would help. The horror of learning Zeno’s power from that had made Abi pull away from the pain of losing his eyes. Abi told Zeno not to. Zeno’s power was his alone.

Someone had to accompany Abi everywhere. Abi who used to be able to see far into the distance and find where Shuten was hiding couldn’t even see the slight elevation of the floor that was at his door. How did one go from super sight to no sight at all?

Zeno would hold his hand, lead him across halls, cheerfully talk about what Prince Yakshi had been doing, warn him of stairs. Guen sometimes straight up picked him off the floor. Abi wished he could protest, but he didn’t. What use was protesting. As if he had any right to? As if he was anyone at all? Shuten held his hands once (Abi thought he pressed his forehead to his hands) and begged forgiveness for coming to Abi’s aid too late.

Abi told him it wasn’t his fault.

Because it was his.

When the medicine wore off, Abi would feel pain. The place where his eyes had once been would burn, a fire that he felt would never go out. His body would ache and his mouth throb. They had beaten and kicked him after all, pleased to be able to attack one of the dragon warriors. They had kicked his mouth too, to make him stop pleading for them to not cut out his eyes.

Without his eyes, Abi was truly no one.

Just some fallen soldier that was receiving immeasurable kindness for even being allowed to still stay in the palace.

Abi was no longer Seiryuu.

“Lord Seiryuu, can I offer you some tea?” an attendant asked.

“No thank you,” Abi said.

“It was brewed by the-” the attendant continued.

“Get out,” Abi said.

“I’m sorry?” the attendant stammered.

“Get out,” Abi repeated harshly.

“Y-yes!” 

I want to see my King.

Hiryuu had a way of comforting them all. He had once brushed Abi’s hair in the middle of the night when he found Abi roaming the palace halls at night, homesick. Hiryuu would know what to do with Abi. He would give Abi value.

I want to see my King!

Abi shot up as soon as he could no longer hear the attendant and stumbled towards his room door. He tried to remember paths and little bumps in the halls he had been attempting to memorize. His body hurt and his eyes burned. He needed to go to the King’s mausoleum. 

Please. Please. 

Abi tripped and fell. He heard something crash. His entire body hurt.

It was dark.

It was so dark.

That world of unexplainable and beautiful light he had seen by his King’s side was gone.

Abi wanted to cry, but no tears would ever come to him again.

“Seiryuu?!” Abi heard Guen’s voice. 

Abi curled up.

I’m no longer Seiryuu.

[carrotcouple]

@akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

Day 3 - Farewell (AO3)

Deep breaths, count numbers and calm down. 

“Yes, who is it?” she asked, clenching her hands into fists against her purple skirts.

“It is me, mother,” the sound of Yakshi’s voice.

“Come in, Yakshi,” she said before taking one last deep breath before the doors opened and her son walked into the room. “Can I help you? Did you not come with your sister?”

“My sister is talking with some of the royal guards. I do not know what she sees in them.” Yakshi sounded displeased. She laughed, soft and calm.

“You can’t speak like that, Yakshi, a girl’s heart is a strange thing,” she said. “Now then, what can I do for you?”

“First of all, how are you doing today, mother?” he asked, his eyes trained on her, filled with concern and schooled determination.

“I am fine,” she said, her voice light, like a feather. Hiryuu’s voice had been firm, grounded, calm. It had made her feel safe even when she had thought she would lose their second child. “Zeno sometimes comes in here to talk to me.”

“Lord Ouryuu?” Yakshi asked in surprise,

“Zeno has always been like that,” she said with a fond smile. 

“I wish to see you smile again, mother,” Yakshi said sadly. She tried not to feel the way her heart painfully squeezed.

“Am I not smiling now?” she asked, trying to sound playful and spreading an easy and practiced smile across her face.

“That is not a smile you would have given to father,” Yakshi said quietly.

“What a cheeky smile you have,” Hiryuu grinned.

“You’re the one that married someone with a smile like this,”

“Those smiles were reserved for your father, I suppose,” she looked away, fingers fiddling with the folds of her skirt.

“Mother, I would like it if you were able to let go,” Yakshi whispered, suddenly sounding small. “I miss you, Hoshi misses you too,”

“I will try,” she smiled.

------o------

But how? How was she supposed to let go of thoughts of scarlet hair, kind eyes, warm smiles, and a man so great he encompassed the entirety of her world. She had been so young then when she had first met him and she had not expected to have fallen in love with the man whose campaign of war she had been criticising. 

How could she let go of someone she loved?

How did anyone let go of someone they loved?

But she was clearly hurting her children. Her children needed her. And she was trying, she was trying so hard. She did all her duties as she was asked to, she spent time with her children, she helped them with whatever she could, she did daily rounds around the castle.

(And every so often she would take deep breaths, count numbers and calm herself down.

Just like Hiryuu had taught her.)

“Zeno, what is it that I am lacking?” she asked. 

Zeno paused in the middle of pouring tea for her. He looked up at her face thoughtfully and then put the teapot down.

“Your spirit,” he said. 

“My spirit?” she asked.

“Yes,” he nodded and then smiled bitterly. “Your highness, it is almost as if you left your spirit with our King.”

She looked down at the teacups, one full and one empty.

“You would not be wrong to say so,” she whispered.

How did one let go of someone they had thought they would be together with for eternity?

How did someone move on?

Had she become so weak? It was not as if this were the first death she had witnessed. Her mother had passed before she had met Hiryuu and her father had passed after Hoshi was born. She had seen soldiers die, she had tended to dying people and had watched life slip through her fingers.

So why was this so hard now?

What made Hiryuu different?

“Zeno, I think, you should pour your tea before mine gets cold,” she said.

------o------

“And so, what is your opinion?” she asked, fingers pressed to stone engraved with ancient letters and patterns and laden with gold lining. A fitting grave for a King that could have ruled the world. She was alone and she spoke to the air, the walls and the stone she was passing her body heat to. An empty hall, one that Abi chose to occupy most of the time.

She wondered why she did not grieve the way he did. The dragons were indeed close, but she was his wife. They had loved each other and lived side by side. Maybe it would have been normal for her to stay by his tomb and refuse to leave it?

And become a failure of a Queen and ruin what her King had left behind? 

What nonsense.

“Tell me, my King, how would you have me move from here?” she asked.

“My queen, you are too harsh,”

“And you are too soft! The children will get hurt again if they do not learn their lesson now!”

“You really are amazing,”

She knew how to move on. She knew how to let go. 

But loving someone she willed to live again, and loving someone she knew was dead were two different things and she was not ready for that.

“But you, my queen, have always made the logical decisions in this family,”

How did someone move on?

“You say goodbye,” she said softly and it was swallowed by the silence in the hall.

She bowed her head and pressed her forehead against the stone.

“I will be going, my King. Please wait for me, even if I take too long,” she said and then straightened up, the image of lips quirked into a smile on her mind.

She turned and walked away, her heart a little heavier, but her spirit a little freer. 

[maddyswriting]

Second Day: Scream

// Have some Yoon angst. I’m sorry Yoon. @akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

Yoon leaned his head on the old tree from the neighbouring village and his body shivered. This spot filled with snow melted underneath him. His trousers stuck to his legs, and he could feel his skin burning. His throat was burning and his eyes were burning. The little boy searched for a hope to fill his gaze. A person, a friend, a parent.

A parent? He asked himself and he smiled bitterly. Yoon had always been alone. This was his destiny. God had decided already and he could do nothing to change it.

No, I can’t die yet. I have to eat, I have to move.

“ Move, dumb legs!” He yelled, his fists hitting his legs. But he could no longer feel them. It was cold. The snow kept growing with every minute. And he could not move.

“ I don’t want to die…” The little boy said and he heard a scream coming from the house near the tree. The voice of an old woman calling to her child who was unable to wake up. Yoon’s lips trembled and his vision blurred. Warm tears fell on his cheeks as he stared in the direction of the house.

“Can… can you help me?” He suddenly called, his will to survive stronger than ever. For a moment, the woman stopped sobbing. It was as if she were listening and pondering over the possibility. It was as if she were ready to save him.

But she did not leave her house. She mourned her child.

Yoon heard her screams again and again.

He closed his eyes, letting all his weight onto the tree. No one will come after him. But he did not blame them.

Three hours later a fair-haired man passed by this village and noticed the child near the tree. He crouched down to check on him but it was in vain. The little boy had no breath. The priest started crying while saying “May God take care of you…”

[carrotcouple]

@akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

Day 5 - Death (AO3)

Warnings: Severed Heads

Her mother used to tell her that no child should ever have to live through a war. But that was how the world was. Always at war. Her mother was lost to a war too. She wasn’t killed, but she grew sick and there was a shortage of everything during war times. She lost her mother to the world that was always at war and she had only her father, Tao, and her people. Tao was too young to understand what death meant, too young to understand what war meant, too young to understand that Kouren was constantly in so much pain.

King Junam was ruthless and the commanders under him were the same. Xing had suffered far too many losses, they were losing resources, they were losing their people, they were losing everything. So Xing decided to draw back their soldiers and beg for a cease fire. A reasonable thing, Kouren believed. A treaty could be made instead of this bloodshed.

Their soldiers would be released.

They could finally put an end to this stupid war that had taken so many of their people away.

It was over.

It was over.

It was supposed to be over.

Kouren stared in horror as it rained blood and severed heads.

People were screaming and crying, some were shouting in outrage. There was so much going on around her. Or there should have been. For Kouren, everything had gone oddly quiet and oddly still. As if time itself had stopped for her.

She watched blankly as dead eyes met hers and a severed head dropped to the ground and right by her feet.

He was a soldier that had worked in the palace before. He smiled a wide smile, babied Tao and patted Kouren’s head even when she asked him not to.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

How strange.

She slowly knelt in front of the severed head and brushed the matted, messy and blood caked hair away from his forehead. The blood was at least several hours old. He had been dead since morning. Kouren absentmindedly rubbed cracked and drying blood from his stiff cheeks. She stared at his lifeless eyes that looked like glass and then closed them.

“Princess Kouren!” Someone shouted behind her, but that sound too, was muffled.

It was just her. Her and this soldier.

Her and this soldier and their burning hatred and rage felt for Prince Yuhon.

“Would you like to go home?” Kouren asked the soldier.

There was no answer. The man’s lips were covered in blood and motionless. Kouren closed her eyes for a moment. It was fascinating how calm she was despite boiling inside with rage, despite the severed head in her hands.

“I can take you home,” she said and then picked the man’s head up, staining her dress with half dried blood. She cradled the man’s head to herself, like a child that she loved dearly.

She looked around her and people were still crying and screaming. Several soldiers and men were trying to usher everyone away from the border. The soldier that had come with Kouren was batting away people that came near her while glancing at her in terror. Her eyes went to the camp Kouka had made in the distance, catching just the slightest glimpse of red.

Prince Yuhon.

Kouren closed her eyes and turned around, walking away with the man’s head held close.

She would make Prince Yuhon pay.

“Princess Kouren! What are you holding?” her soldier cried out. “Please let go of that immediately!”

“I’m taking him home,” Kouren said quietly, turning to look at her soldier. The man went still, horror and fear in his eyes. “Is there something wrong with taking someone home?”

“N-no, your highness,” the man looked away, unable to look her in the eyes.

Why?

Was it because of the blood that dirtied her dress, the tender way she held the head, the tears that wouldn’t stop falling from her eyes?

“Do you know where his home is?” Kouren asked.

“N-no,” the man stammered.

“I see, I will have to search then,” Kouren turned and kept walking.

She searched and searched, but she couldn’t seem to find the man’s home and anyone she asked would tell her that they didn’t know. They were all scared. Kouren didn’t understand. What were they so scared of? It wasn’t as if she were Prince Yuhon.

“Kouren, what are you doing?” her father shouted.

“Oh, father,” Kouren murmured. “I am looking for this man’s home. While I look for it, I was wondering if I could leave him with Tao.”

“Absolutely not! You mean to leave that with Tao? Throw that into the furnace at once!” her father sounded horrified.

Why?

“Why would I throw a hard working citizen into the furnace? He has done nothing wrong. Father, you cannot treat your people like that.” Kouren stared at her father and he looked even more horrified.

“Kouren, please, give that to another soldier. They will take the head to where they are paying respects to the fallen.”

Why?

“Respects?” Kouren said softly. “Respect? Is that enough?”

“Kouren?” her father asked.

“This man is not dead,” she said quietly. “He is filled with fury. He is filled with rage. He is a burning furnace himself.” She brushed her fingers against the blood stained hair, tenderly. “Respect? He does not want that. He wants blood. He wants the blood of the people of Kouka to be spilled until their rivers are red. Respect is pointless.”

Her father stared at her, speechless and then she noticed the man on the side, his face bleeding and his side maimed.

“Ah,” she walked over to him, placed the head on the floor and pressed her hands against the flowing blood on his face. He stared at her in wonder. “This man too, is not dead.” She pressed her forehead against the man’s. “Are you too, hiding that rage within your heart?”

[carrotcouple]

@akatsuki-no-yona-angst-week

Day 7 - Past (AO3)

I am so, so, so late with this. I’m sorry. It was so hard to write this prompt?

------o------

“There is much to do, Iksoo,” his Master told him. 

Iksoo nodded. He hadn’t been told the details of the prophecy that his Master had received, but he had understood that it was important enough to shake the entire Kingdom. Although the prophecy was mostly secret except amongst those in the royal family, Iksoo could feel the pressure and the change in the air.

“What would you have me do?” Iksoo asked. 

“Tomorrow morning we will have to-” his Master started very seriously when his eyes widened and Iksoo realized a little too late that there was a very threatening presence behind him. Before he could even turn to see who it was, a fistful of his hair was grabbed and he was dragged backwards.

Iksoo cried out in pain.

“What are yo-” His Master shouted.

“Please let go of m-” Iksoo cut off when he felt the cold press of metal against his neck. Iksoo whimpered in acute fear.

Silence. 

Iksoo couldn’t move, whoever was holding him in place was so strong, he couldn’t move an inch. Well, not like that was an option with a sword being pressed to his neck. His Master was quiet as well, staring with an indescribable look on his face. 

Then his Master dipped down in a bow.

“How can I help you, Lord Yuhon?” he asked, his voice quiet but clear.

Iksoo’s body seized up with even more fear. He was no good with Yuhon. Iksoo had crossed paths with the man many times, but he had glared at Iksoo so fiercely, Iksoo had nearly fainted. He clearly didn’t like Iksoo or his Master and he rarely visited their temple, so why was he here now?

“Who put you vipers up to this? Which one? One of the Ministers? Or maybe one of the Generals? Was it Joongi?” he snarled and his grip on the top of Iksoo’s head tightened.

Iksoo bit his lip to keep from crying.

“No one, my Lord,” Iksoo’s Master said. “I received the prophecy from the heavens and-”

“Don’t test my patience!” Yuhon shouted and the sword pierced skin.

Iksoo hiccuped in fear and tears spilled from his eyes. Iksoo’s Master looked up with a start, horror in his eyes.

“My Lord! Iksoo is a child!” He shouted.

“And your point is?” Yuhon scoffed.

“Please,” Iksoo whispered, so terrified, his voice barely came out at all.

“I knew I should have removed you from this palace sooner! You cheats, liars, corrupt bastards!” Yuhon shouted. 

“We did nothi-” Iksoo’s Master said desperately and then Yuhon pulled on Iksoo’s hair. Iksoo cried out. “We’ll leave!” His Master shouted. “We’ll leave the palace! Just please! Let Iksoo go. He’s just a child, he hasn’t done anything to deserve this.”

“As if, he too is probably involved in y-” Yuhon started and Iksoo’s Master shook his head furiously.

“I have told him nothing,” he said.

“Then, I’ll let him go,” Yuhon pulled his sword away and pushed Iksoo forward. Iksoo stumbled, his sandal catching on a floor tile, and he fell to the floor. “But you will have to die here,” 

Iksoo pushed himself up in panic. Yuhon was already striding towards his Master and Iksoo’s feet moved before he could stop himself. He threw himself in front of his Master, terror coursing through his veins and his limbs trembling.

“No!” Iksoo cried. “No, you can’t! Please!” Iksoo cried, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Iksoo had no one. He only had his master. Someone born with the blessing to hear the voices of the Gods was destined for loneliness. Iksoo had already lost any family he’d had. The only one he had was his Master who had taught Iksoo, brushed Iksoo’s hair, held his hand when he couldn’t sleep, fed him food and took care of him when he was sick or hurt. Iksoo had no one else. 

“Child, if you do not move out of the way, I will cut you down with him,” Yuhon’s voice was cold. Iksoo couldn’t look up into his eyes. 

“Iksoo! What are you doing?” His Master snapped.

“Please,” Iksoo begged, wracking his brain from something, anything. Then Iksoo knelt and bowed with his forehead touching the ground. “I will see to it that my Master will never speak of whatever it is that your highness isn’t pleased with. I will watch over my Master with a sharp eye. We will leave quietly and remain quiet for the rest of our lives,” Iksoo squeezed his eyes shut. “Please.”

“If you do not know what your Master knows of, how will you stop him from saying anything, you stupid child?” Yuhon scoffed.

“I will make sure of it!” Iksoo cried, his forehead pressed into cold tiles and fingers curled into fists. 

“What nonsense,” Yuhon hissed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Iksoo! Enough! You are the next priest! You must live!” His master shouted.

“No!” Iksoo cried. “I cannot leave without you!” 

“Ikso-” His master sounded desperate.

“I am running out of patience, you fools,” Yuhon said darkly. 

“Iksoo!” His master shouted.

“No!” Iksoo practically screamed.

“Enough,” Yuhon sounded done. Iksoo bit his lip fiercely.

“You have my word, your highness,” Iksoo’s Master suddenly spoke up. “I will not speak a word of that prophecy ever again. My student is important to me. I have no desire to lose him. If you ever hear word of that prophecy, you will surely know that it came from us and you will find us and kill us. But I do not desire the death of my student. He is the next priest. I cannot let this end here. That is why, I will cut my tongue,” 

Iksoo shot up.

“Master, why would you-” Iksoo cried. Yuhon kicked Iksoo in the side and Iksoo flew almost halfway across the hall and Yuhon strode up to his Master. Iksoo sobbed, clutching his side. “Master!” 

“If you were to cut your tongue, you would die. It would be better if I just killed you here.” Yuhon glared down at Iksoo’s Master.

“Take us to a doctor!” Iksoo almost screamed. “Take us to a doctor in the city and then my Master will live! And we will go quietly!” 

Yuhon turned to look at him and Iksoo shook like a leaf.

“I see,” Yuhon said coldly. “It would seem you raised your student to be cunning.”

“No,” Iksoo’s Master said. “I raised him to be kind,” 

Yuhon said nothing, he merely grabbed Iksoo’s Master’s arm and pulled him up and then glared hard at Iksoo. Then he dragged Iksoo’s Master with him. Iksoo stumbled to his feet and desperately ran after them.

------o------

So, I wanted to write a past that has been mostly unexplored in canon. A first I was like SOOWON! But that's too much of a hurdle. Too complex and it would probably develop into a multi chaptered fic that wouldn't do real justice to his back story. I've been reading a lot of historical manga and manhwa lately and religious groups were often suspected of supporting a certain Prince. So I went with Yuhon believing that Iksoo's Master had faked Yona's prophecy in order to put the Prince he wanted on the throne. Biting off your tongue is a way to commit suicide if I'm correct, but if you do it the right way and get a doctor to treat you immediately you might live and just not be able to speak properly ever again. Of course, this is all second hand knowledge. I do not know how true this is. Iksoo is like seventeen here but a smol that hasn't had his second growth spurt yet so I FEEL FOR MY BABY.

This was a wild week (well more than a week, but) and I LOVE writing angst so this was great. I'm glad I managed to stick to my goal of writing side characters and not main characters. I cut it pretty close with 'Abuse' but I managed to focus on mostly Garou!

I hope you guys enjoyed this!